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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140429">Lesser</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frankenstein - Mary Shelley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Feelings ew, I guess????, Oh no how do I tag things, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Platonic compliments, Resentment, is it cuddling?, self worth issues, spite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:36:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor and his creature are both residents on a ship. Victor, naturally, falls ill. This leaves the creature to take care of him and reconsider his previous hatred.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Victor Frankenstein &amp; Frankenstein's Creature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lesser</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victor rasped breathlessly in his fever induced sleep, shifting as to hopelessly seek comfort in his tiny cot. The creature’s gaze fell intently to his creator. The man thrashed around, gasping and coughing. He was so weak. It was almost endearing. He sat there for a moment, Eyes closing. He sat and listened to the rapid and harsh breathes of the awful man who had cursed him with life.</p><p>So cursed was he to be on this ship, surrounded by those who he most detested, those who detested him. Those who favored victor over him. He scowled, the noises of Victor suffering pleasing his ears. A frail cough at last brought light into his vision and he was suddenly able to see why they were so inthralled by someone so loathsome. He described the man so cruelly in his mind, using the harshest words, yet he could not feel the wretched words for himself. </p><p>He was beautiful because he was human. Those were things he could never be. Spite did rise inside of him and he titled his head, hoping that his creator would look as foul as his filthy soul from another angle. As the creature expected, he didn’t. He was still perfect. He was still human. It made his own stomach twist. The stomach that once belonged to another. That though weighed on him. How much was stolen, how much was given to him. He should have been angry as the innocent had been robbed and degraded. Disgraced.</p><p>He seemed to feel that when his thoughts were too quiet to focus on revenge. His own detestable life and silent moments forced the thought into his mind that victor had every right to hate him. He was a walking symbol of his crimes. He was a crime. To an extent, he also stole from the dead and then mocked them with his deformed image. But shockingly, and certainly unlike those quiet moments, he almost felt grateful because it was all stolen for him. </p><p>At one point Victor had loved him. Or at least thought of him with affection. His stitches said that much, sewn will such elegant care. Care. He almost could have smiled. The thought might have occurred to him: was he thought of like that ever? What if Victor always detested him for being a constant reminder of what he had done. The atrocities he had committed. But that thought didn’t cross his mind. He seemed content to stare at his creator.</p><p>The longer he looked the more he noticed he bore a slight resemblance to his own detestable frame. The man before the creature was pale and ghostly. He looked almost as fair as the bedding he was curling into. He was far too thin as well, for someone surrounded by people who cared for him. His eyes seemed hollow and bruised. His already thin cheeks seemed sunk in. And his neck, bones too clear,  looked like the it would snap as much as if the creature were to pinch it. The man in question, went into a fit of frail coughing in his almost coma like state.</p><p>The creature seemed to move on instinct, embracing his creator in his arms and cradling him unconsciously. Cradling him, like a babe. Just a child. The thought passed through his mind and made him shudder. No. He warned himself. Frankenstein was not a child. Frankenstein was a man. A pathetic- no- evil man who refused to take care of himself. Yet the small figure was lulled back and forth gently in his arms. He was shocked by his own actions for a moment but then only grimaced. Was it really his first instinct to treat his wretched god like a child? Was he really made to care for a man who refused to care for himself? The thought made disgust twist inside of him but he found himself unable to repress a bitter smile. He knew not why he was smiling but he couldn’t seem to help it.</p><p>His finger tips brushed some of the white hair quite by accident. He jerked his hand away from the man’s head, taken aback by the softness of it. For a moment, he hesitated and just stared at his own grotesque hand. It seemed unnatural and revolting in contrast to his creator. Victor was just a bit more than a corpse yet the creature himself was somehow more monstrous. It almost made him angry.</p><p>After the brief storm of thoughts had cleared, he found himself running his rough fingers through the snow colored hair. He had never seen someone with such vast white or even grey adorning their head before. Even old man DeLacey had some color left. This thought should have pleased him, knowing he’s destroyed his enemy but to his amazement and confusion, he felt concerned. Perhaps it was merely the lingering thought of the old man. Yes, the creature always felt the upmost despair when he recalled those people whom he once held dear.</p><p>A cold feeling welled up inside of his heart. He held the small human closer, odd how even though this man had given him life, he was more the child than the father. He sat down with the man curled into him, still rasping for breathe. The creature contently eased the man’s back with his hand, to his own wonder the action caused the man’s breath to even out a bit. This vile human was warming him. And warming him from the cold of the people who once warmed him. Curious.</p><p>He played with the long strands, much longer than they had been the day he was created. For a moment, his mind echoed memories of the day he was created, the screaming and the running. Anger should have burnt within his heart and yet he felt sympathy. How strange. He was puzzled and yet intrigued by the sudden shift of his own heart. Was he so low as to seek comfort from the origin of his plight? The words were harsh yet again he found himself unable to match them with his emotions, usually swirling like the icy storms outside.</p><p>The thought occurred to him that maybe Victor also questioned his own emotions, turned everything into cold education. Nothing was missed by him. Except him own health and his creation of course. He remembered sneaking through the woods, watching his loathsome maker walking dejectedly. He also remembered the pity he felt as Victor crumbled and sobs wrecked his fragile body. </p><p>He remembered the want, need to to reach out and console the man. But out of fear (and anger) of both of them, he ceased. Let him suffer. He’s done this to himself. Vile man. He had thought yet hesitated to walk away. Yet did walk away rather than enjoy the sounds of agony and deterioration of the awful man’s health.</p><p>Now was his chance to take care of his maker. It felt like a blessing, an opportunity to prove himself. Not only prove himself, but to be warmed by another’s embrace in the likes of which he had only felt in dreams. And those dreams disappeared in an instant, leaving him cold and alone. But Victor wasn’t leaving. He was there with him and they were together without burden or death after long last and that’s all that seemed to matter. He smiled as he felt warm for the first time since the DeLaceys. He was just about to hush the final stinging thoughts of those people when he started, pulling away from the face he was just about to kiss.</p><p> </p><p> “How sweet.” A voice echoed through the room, startling the creature. He jerked his head to look at the owner of the voice. </p><p>“I was just about to set him down- he’s sick, I was just- just carrying him-“ he stammered, ashamed that he felt anything but loathing for his creator. It was a lousy excuse, besides. He paused, eyes narrowing, “You aren’t supposed to be here.” He spoke lowly and sounded more grounded.</p><p>“Captain said that I could come down so long as I don’t disturb either of you. Well, I suppose I failed in that end.” The man muttered, almost smiling. ‘Either of you.’ So at least Captain Walton feared him enough to grant him privacy.</p><p>“You mock me. You- your kind are not welcome here.” The creature said darkly.</p><p>“You’re on our ship,” the man took a cautious step back and eyed Victor, “Ah, but the scientist has free reign I suppose?”</p><p>“No- He isn’t like you. He’s a monster just as much as I.” He defended, yet still holding victor close to himself. Still hoping to share his warmth.</p><p>“But what of all of the others who have wronged you?”</p><p>“You are all wretched!” He exclaimed. The frail man in his arms stirred slightly in his arms. At a small noise of distress, the creature had to refrain from hushing the man.</p><p>“But Frankenstein on the other hand...?” The crew-mate pointed at the man in his arms.</p><p>“He-he is also wretched- more so than any of you, already awful you are!” He hugged the man tighter, as a child might cling to a doll.</p><p>“Then why, prey tell, is he here with you?” </p><p>“He’s nowhere else to go....” he answered dumbly and immediately regretted it. Terrifying as it was, he didn’t have an answer to that question.</p><p>“The Captain is fond of him and there are several open rooms. Why do you insist he be in the same one as you?” Bold words for a man that could be snapped like a twig.</p><p>“He may rot with me.” It was a weak parry and he knew it.</p><p>“Yet you say that we’re all wretched, he could rot with u-“ he was cut off by the towering creature.</p><p>“He doesn’t belong with you! He detests me and therefor I will be his punishment!” The creature snarled. The words tasted bitter. Detests. He detests him. The man took a leap back. Everyone seemed to fear him. And not without reason. He realized this bitterly.</p><p>“Yet you swaddle him?” These words caused what little heat that the creature had in his body to fill his face.</p><p>“I was only tending to him so he could remain alive for my torment!”</p><p>“Yet you swaddle him.” He repeated almost smugly. The creature stared down at his awful creator, shamefully noting how he embraced him tighter. A word slipped weakly past the pale man’s lips. It was his name. He was sure only he had heard it since he was holding the man so close. Yet the crew-mate responded in time.</p><p>“Gabriel?” He questioned, “The angel?” His Eyes glinted with some understanding, “He has gifted you a name?”</p><p>“I rightfully deserve a name.” He cradled the sick man’s head with one of his large hands. He cringed at the thought of how easily he could break his creator’s skull. Kill him. Isn’t that what he wanted? To kill him? To cast any and all blame onto him for cursing the world with the creatures own vile existence?</p><p>“So endearing or perhaps quite ironic, considering the context.” The voice pulled the creature from his thoughts. And pushed him into an angry and bitter ocean of new thoughts. Is that why Victor had picked such a name? To mock him? To belittle him? </p><p>Was it all a cruel joke flown right over his head that he mistook for bare minimum affection? Was he once again the fool to Victor’s shamefully dimwitted mind games? No, he seemed so genuine. He had been sick, certainly. But he meant it. He had to! Had he finally accepted that it was all his fault and finally accept his creation? He had to.</p><p>“Get out.” Gabriel growled.</p><p>“The truth is too difficult to face?”</p><p>“Get out!” He yelled, spinning around and meeting the man’s frightened eyes. The man didn’t move. In an attempt not to kill the man, he all but threw his creator into his cot, “Fine. I’ll leave.” He growled, stomping out of the room. He damned his creator for once again humiliating him. It was all his fault. The cruel man. Not a real man. Neither of them were. The creature thought bitterly. He remembered how grateful he was to have been given a name despite being entitled to it his entire life. Yet now all he could feel was resentment. Resentment far too soft to be hatred filled him, “Gabriel.” He spat, hating the mocking words of the vile half-man. Somehow Victor managed to be less than him.</p><p> </p><p>He would always be less.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I share an ao3 account. Lets hope the other guys didn’t do anything weird on here. Please don’t cancel me. (I’m obligated to say this because oh my god. I hate sharing with these guys. Why do I do this to myself?)</p><p>Also I’ll clean this up when I’m less sad.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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